Still The Pens Wrote
Still wondering why the ceiling cascaded,
We lifted the pens that wrote all of the time;
Near a well of the house called greatness
We timed our steps and found a speedy victory
Due to boldness and august splendour.
One still sees what is, one finds what is
To be steps and stages of a great system.
They walk down and convey a sense of peace,
Opening the doors to the gates of spreading disease
But eliminating it afterwards due to signs of youth.
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